the only way to resist (is to give in)
by reflecting
Summary: HotchxReid. AU drabble. Hotch never ended up at the FBI, but is instead working on the wrong side of the law. Spencer has inadvertedly found himself caught in his web, with no real desire to free himself.


**A/N:** based off a prompt by eclecticregard on tumblr, who wanted criminal!Hotch. Crossposted on my AO3 and tumblr. Enjoy!

* * *

oOo

Spencer knows, in many ways, why this is wrong. Aaron Hotchner - better known as only Hotch - is the one they simply cannot catch. Spencer probably would have never had anything to do with him if it weren't for that case. A strictly white collar criminal, he isn't part of Spencer's field of work. He doesn't fit into the violence or the depravities Spencer is used to; sure, he fits into several psychological profilings, as anyone would, but he continues to elude the authorities nonetheless. He is intelligent, dedicated and disciplined. He knows how the law works, has intimate knowledge of it. Forever a step ahead, leaving contraband and billion dollar scams in his wake. An art thief and conman turned entrepreneur, with an well-oiled team at his beck and call.

Spencer really can't help but be fascinated.

oOo

It begins with a killer with fancy tastes.

Middle-aged, white. Overcompensating. Drawn to expensive pieces of art, driven to recreate it with his own touch with a briefly living medium. Realizing he's been had, that his latest work was based on a fake.

Hotch had taken offense at his work (however illegal) had been used to inspire such atrocities. It had been quite the surprise to be greeted with one of FBI's most wanted in his own living room, Spencer must admit. Unnerving, fascinating, and ultimately rewarding.

If anyone would ever ask, Spencer doesn't think he'll have an answer.

 _Why not turn him in?_

oOo

Aaron's breath is hot against his neck, his nose a gentle touch in his hair. "You don't seem very happy to see me, darling. Bad day at work?"

Spencer lies stiff on his bed, the familiar heat along his back a terrible temptation. Soft, coaxing kisses along his neck, under his ear, further weakens him and with a sigh of defeat he can feel himself deflate.

"You shouldn't get involved," Spencer reprimands for the fourteenth time. "This is my job, these are my cases. I've stayed out of your business, against my better judgement, why can't you stay out of mine?"

Large, comforting hands run up his sides, grips his hips and tugs him closer to the body crowding him. He can feel the large bulge of Aaron's arousal pressing against his bottom and it makes him bite his lip to keep silent. Aaron tsks in disapproval, reaching around to tug Spencer's lip free with the press of a finger. "None of that, now. You know I want all your noises, so don't be stingy with me sweetheart. And you really can't expect me to turn a blind eye when you are threatened. We won't have this discussion again, Spencer, not tonight."

There is really no getting around that particular tone of voice, Spencer has learned. And to be honest, he really isn't feeling up to putting up any kind of fight. He always loses anyway.

"What do you want, then?" Spencer asks as he closes his eyes, slightly breathless with the knowledge of exactly what it is Aaron is doing here. The hair on his arms have risen in excitement, and his pants have grown tight trying to contain him. He yearns for the man holding him, whimpers as Aaron bites playfully at his shoulder.

"I want to fuck you, remind you that you're mine," Aaron whispers in his ear, dark and dangerous and utterly addictive. Before him, Spencer would never have thought himself able to fall into such bad habits so easily. But here he is, trembling for more as he soaks up Aaron's words, Aaron's touch. "Feel you alive and breathing for me, as I open you up. You'll be tight and hot around me, so pliant and lovely. Won't you, darling?"

Spencer's breath hitches on a sob, he feels like he's burning. "Yes, yes please, Aaron," he manages to choke out, heart beating fast in his chest as Aaron begins to slowly, firmly, rut against his ass.

"Good," Aaron says as he presses a kiss to his cheek, lips soft and gentle against overheated skin. "Good boy."

And Spencer can do little but yield, starving for his touch, his dark and secret words. He knows why this is wrong, but he never stood a chance.

oOo


End file.
